


What Do You Get

by Delysia



Category: CA: CW, Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Drabble Collection, F/M, Freeform, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Feels, Vignettes, Wolverine is a Good Bro, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delysia/pseuds/Delysia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before, during, and after Captain America: Civil War.</p><p>His breath tickles her neck, warm and moist against her skin. His leg juts out from the crumpled sheet, crossing over her calf and effectively trapping her into staying still, staying in his arms. Just staying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Been Trying to Reach You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A series of twelve vignettes, exploring the relationship of Natasha Romanova and Steve Rogers.
> 
> Here be spoilers. You have been warned. Proceed at your own risk.

**Someone To Hold You Too Close**

  
His breath tickles her neck, warm and moist against her skin. His leg juts out from the crumpled sheet, crossing over her calf and effectively trapping her into staying still, staying in his arms. Just staying.

  
But that’s not the smartest thing to do for a number of reasons including their newest teammate and his ability to manifest straight through walls.  Natasha isn’t ready for this to be a topic at the weekly Thursday breakfast meeting.  (She prefers to keep Tony distracted by wreaking havoc on his kitchen- splatters in his microwave, strudel left in the toaster, coffee grounds flushed down the disposal.). She is not even sure what this is and she is not willing to discuss this with anyone. Not even _him._

  
He asked once, because of course he did.  Because it’s Steve and he probably thought _this-_ that _she_ would send his immortal soul to the gates of hell itself. He’s still a good Catholic boy at heart with a rosary that she can just make out on his dresser despite the darkness.

  
But he didn’t say no either. Her lips never met any resistance, his fingers drew her closer everytime. He didn’t say no. Not to her. Never to her.

  
“It is what it is,” was her reply, his sweat slick chest pressing along her back. He didn’t really think it could be more did he?

  
Because he is a good boy and she is… she is just her. We are who we are. And even these tiny flickers of happiness are more than she deserved.

  
“Stay.” It’s a command, a plea, a row of commitments tied tightly to four little letters. He moves in closer. His hand wrapping around her to cup a breast and pull her into him, pad of his thumb drawing lazy circles on a pert nipple.

  
He is not playing fair.

  
“Can’t. Some sadist scheduled a five a.m. training excursion.” Disengage, deflect.

  
“I’ll make sure you are up in time,” he offers. “You could just sleep, you know? I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

  
Dangerous words. Tempting words. And she can’t. This isn’t that.

  
It can’t be that.

  
“Can’t,” she repeats, wiggling out of his too comforting grasp.

  
“Nat-” Something else lingers on his tongue and she silently pleads for him to keep it to himself.

  
Tossing on her shirt and panties, she leans over him, lips meeting lips.

  
“Sorry,” she says.

  
And she really is.

  
But it is what it is.

 

* * *

  
**Someone To Hurt You Too Deep…  
**  

“There is plenty of room on the jet.” This is different, for them at least. Normally she runs and he chases.

_  
Stay._

  
“Just because it’s the path of least resistance doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path.”

_  
Stay._

  
She doesn’t do this. She doesn’t plea but for him, for them…

_  
Stay._

  
“Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”

 _  
Stay. Stay. Stay._  

  
What has it been a dozen nights? A million memories?

  
He can’t just… he wouldn’t just...

  
“What are we giving up to do it?” And she knows she’s lost.

  
A pain rips through her. The same one she swore she was protecting herself from with every _can’t._

  
Maybe he sees it, maybe he knows because his voice is soft when he speaks. “Sorry, Nat. I can’t sign it.”

_  
Can’t._

  
“I know.” Because she does, because she understands more than he will ever know.

_  
Can’t._

  
“Well, then… what are you doing here?”

  
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

  
His embrace engulfs her and she lets all the other words, all the moments she wanted to stay but didn’t, she lets them all die on her tongue.

_  
Can’t. Can’t. Can’t._

  
She knows goodbye when she hears it.

 

* * *

 

**Someone To Sit In Your Chair, To Ruin Your Sleep**

  
He still calls. Of course he does.  “You’re alright?”

  
She’s distracted. Her senses dulled by the blast and diluded from trying to ignore that ache in her chest.

  
“Yeah.”

  
And then because she isn’t sure she deserves the attention (not anymore at least). “Thanks. I got lucky.”

  
The sirens echo in the call and she knows he is close. She turns to look but stops herself. Whatever it was is done now.

  
And then it hits her- he’s not there for her, not really.

  
“I know how much Barnes means to you. I really do.”

  
And she doesn’t plea, but to keep him safe…

  
“Stay home. You’ll only make this worse for all of us,” and then as a last ditch she tacks on, “please.”

  
“Are you saying you’ll arrest me?”

  
And Natasha knows then. He’s going rogue. That used to be her M.O. Left the KGB, left S.H.I.E.L.D., left _him._

_  
Stay._

  
“No.” She won’t and it hurts that he doesn’t know that. “Someone will if you interfere. That’s how it works now.”

  
“If he’s this far gone, Nat, I should be the one to bring him in.”

  
“Why?”

  
She doesn’t understand. She really doesn’t. Six nights ago they were… what they were and now?

  
“Because I’m the one least likely to die trying.”

_  
Can’t._

  
The line goes dead, her stomach turns to lead.

  
She is exhausted but she sighs and squares her shoulders and goes to work. 

  
She will rest when this is done. She will rest when Steve is safe.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something very different than how I usually write. Would love to hear any thoughts. Also bonus points to anyone who recognizes the titles. Personally I attach that entire thing to Natasha. She's a tough nut to crack.


	2. Chapter Two: You're on to Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Civil war and beyond.

**Someone To Need You Too Much…  
**   


Because of course it comes to this. Her standing between him and… everything.

  
Bucky is behind him and freedom is in front of him and she plants herself between.

  
This has to end. They are destroying each other. Can’t he see that?

  
Steve’s eyes are resigned and regretful and she knows.

  
“You’re not gonna stop.”

  
It’s not a question. Not even a plea.

  
Natasha knows better.

_  
Stay._

_  
Can’t._

  
Soft whispered requests never answered in the affirmative.

  
The world mutes around them. A moment, a heartbeat, a flicker for them alone. Blue eyes on green and that sudden feeling of loss. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  
They weren’t supposed to be like this.

  
“You know I can’t.”

  
This is how it ends.

_  
Can’t._

  
He was never made to hurt anyone. Crushes her anyway. Flings a star emblazoned shield straight at her heart. Shatters the smallest smattering of hope she holds. The one she denies having, ignores lead smudged fingers that tug at that part of her that is all too human.

  
That he let be human.

  
Let her be good.

  
Let her be more than what she was created for.

_  
Can’t._

  
He was never made to hurt anyone.

  
She was.

  
There is a battle raging outside. Metal on metal, friend versus friend.

  
There is a battle raging within.

  
She was created to inflict maximum damage. Her weapon is charged. She will not be moved.

  
This is how it ends. Sounds of battle in the air and her on one side and him on the other. Her standing between him and everything.

  
This is not how it began.

  
It began with late night drives to nowhere and music from the radio and moments where they were the only ones in the world.  It began with the sound of his voice singing softly along in her ear, his hand warm in her own, and a look that reflected back someone better than she knew herself to be.

  
Wanted to be. For them. For him. For herself.

  
The light isn’t the same in his eyes. It’s tinged with doubt and a plea- _prove me right._

  
Bright blue eyes bore into hers. Beseeching. Begging.

  
Needs her too much. Wants more than she knows how to give.

_  
Stay._

  
A whisper in her ear that she ignored all those nights.

_  
Stay._

  
It echoes in the could-have-beens discarded around them, dead dreams that linger in the air.

_  
Can’t._

  
She understands all too well.

  
She aims her widow’s bite. She will not be moved.

  
This is how it ends. Her standing there. Planted firmly.

  
“I’m going to regret this.” Adds it to the pile. Another mistake.

  
That’s all she can seem to make when it comes to him.

  
She fires.

  
It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.

  
“Go.”

  
Tells him to leave. Fires- again and again. Makes a stand.  Buys him precious seconds.

  
This is how it ends.

  
With her standing between him and everything.

 

* * *

 

**Someone To Know You Too Well…**

**  
** “I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. taught you to avoid first floor access.”

  
She’s impressed that Sharon doesn’t flinch.

  
Maybe they both knew at some point this would have to happen.

  
The blonde shrugs, “I hadn’t really planned to be on the lam this week. Worked with what I had.”

  
“You knew what would happen when you took that shield.”

  
“I don’t regret it.”

  
Showdown- high noon.

  
Natasha refuses to speak. She won’t draw first. Sharon is green and eager. She is worn and battle beaten.

  
“Was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be… getting the shield.” Clarification is not needed. Can’t be talking about this. Because none of this is easy.

  
It’s a tentative toe, wading into waters neither quite know how to handle.

  
“I might have cleared a path.”

  
It all leads straight to him.

_  
“Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse.”_

  
Natasha always knew he deserved better than her.

  
She was never going to be able to be that girl.

_  
Stay._

_  
Can’t._

  
Doesn’t matter how much she wishes she could have been.

  
It’s over.

  
Almost over.

  
Loose ends. That’s all that’s left. All she can offer him now. Tie them into a neat little bow for him. Her last gift.

  
Not enough but she was never going to be.

  
“He’s going to need help,” Natasha continues. She won’t say the rest. She can’t.

  
“Isn’t that your job?”

  
It could have been.

_  
Stay._

  
“Think I’ve been replaced.” Her smile is hard.

  
Everything is hard. Jagged and jaded under her falter- free hands. None of her emotions play on her features.

  
There is a bag at her feet, gear and info and Logan’s number (she’s calling in that favor he owes her). Everything Steve will need to have a shot at getting into RAFT.

  
She swallows the lump that rises in her throat.

  
Natasha always did hate loose ends. Messy. Unneeded.  

  
She kicks it lightly towards Sharon. “Here.”

  
Realization dawns hard. “You aren’t coming.”

  
Shrugs with false nonchalance.

_  
Can’t._

  
Nothing shows. There is comfort in that.

  
“He’s not going to understand that,” Sharon protests.

  
But he will.

  
He knows her.

  
He has a list of facts that he extracted so carefully, so subtly worming his way into Nat’s heart that she didn’t realize she had even given so much of herself away. Favorite milkshake, where she hides her first edition Tolstoy, the shampoo she prefers, the song she hums as she destroys Tony’s kitchen- dishes left like detonators on every surface, sure to start fight. Always itching for battle.

  
Sharon might not understand but Natasha knows Steve will.

  
He knows her.

  
Knows her painfully well. How she refuses to yield, can’t be weak, how she always pushes a little too hard. Bloody pools on her bathroom floor rather than ask for help, self supplied sutures.  Sews herself back together. Snips all the loose ends.

  
He knows her. The way she moves, the sounds she makes below him, how every night she could have almost fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

_  
Almost._

  
Almost knew how to make her forget that love is for children.

_  
Stay._

_  
Can’t._

  
“Tell him I gave you my dance card. He’ll know what it means.”

  
Almost knew all the ways to break down her walls.

_  
Almost._

 

* * *

 

  
**Someone To Pull You Up Short And Put You Through Hell**

 

He finds her a month later in Angola. She is in costume as perpetually overindulged tourist in a green printed Lanvin dress, complete with a large brimmed hat to protect her skin.

  
No armor to protect her heart though. It skips a beat at the sight of him.

  
She has a precious few seconds before he will be at her side. She debates being able to disappear without him calling after her.

  
She could. Maybe he wouldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t risk her.

  
She stays instead.

  
Maybe she has learned her lesson after all. Or maybe she just misses him. She had forgotten how lonely solo work is. Has grown too used to him having there, someone to watch over, someone to help steady her.

  
She heads towards the heavy Luanda traffic, hoping the bustle will help shroud them in a land still wary from war. Where everyone still cautiously steps just in case of a forgotten landmine.

  
His hand is iron on her arm and pulls her back. Bringing her closer to him, always closer. Her body melts for a second under his familiar digits before she tenses.

  
It won’t be like before. It can’t be.

  
Plays the part instead. Natasha has always been good on her toes.

  
“Oh, honey! You scared me! I hope you don’t mind. I left Miguel at the hotel. I wanted to see Fortaleza and didn’t really want to drag that poor man all the way up there. I know you think I need a bodyguard but I’ve been fine.”

  
He catches on faster than she expects but there is something dark in his eyes, a shadow that makes her stomach flip. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

  
It’s too close to the truth to be part of the game. She smiles brightly, too brightly, a mask that beams at him until he forces one back and tacks on a “sweetheart.”

  
Who are they this time?

  
They have done undercover work before. Steve’s not particularly adept at it but he always follows her lead. She decides they are newlyweds, ten months in, seeking something more adventurous in a foreign land. Snuggles up closer to him, forcing sunshine into her voice and ignoring that sense of peace that always seems to rise when he is so near.

  
It’s just pretend.

  
“You really didn’t have to go through all the trouble but thank you.” Rises on tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek.

  
Reminds herself it’s all a lie.

  
Can’t be like before.

  
Swallows it all down and leads him to the resort. The walk is long but taxis are dangerous and she doesn’t want him causing a scene. Intertwines her fingers with his, to guide him and keep him safe and so very close because she knows by the flash in his eyes he is not going to wait until they get back to the hotel to ask.

  
She is proven right a few blocks later.

  
“Why are you here?” His voice is carefully controlled and close. His breath tickles her ear and she has to suppress a shiver.

  
Her reply is automatic, gazing up at him like he is the sun, letting him barely see the smirk on her lips, “Practicing my Portuguese.”

  
He does not seem amused. “This is not a safe place. Do you know how hard it was to get in?”

  
Yes, she does. Expensive too. Palms expecting to be greased at every turn and dinners are running her over a hundred a night to keep up with the touristy expat crowd. But it’s worth it. She knows General Ross is coming. Officially for a tour of Fortaleza, but a meeting with José Eduardo dos Santos (especially in light of the president’s new found desire to step down after a 37 year rule) is something out of the ordinary. She took a tour of that beautiful landmark herself today and placed enough bugs that she is hopeful that a few will survive whatever sweep the soldiers will no doubt do.

  
This is not the time to for whatever this is.

  
“Luckily it’s not as hard to leave.” And then because he is still looking at her, like he doesn’t understand she tacks on, “Go home, Rogers.”

  
“Can’t.”

  
She doesn’t ask why. Part of her doesn’t want to know.

  
Can’t be like before.

  
No matter what he says, no matter how right it feels to have his hand in his.

_  
It just can’t._

  
She’s not built that way.

_  
Love is for children._

  
No use in wishing it was different.

  
As they near the hotel she ramps up the cover she has created in her mind. Pretends to be someone capable of being head over heels in love. Pretends to be a different girl. One that giggles as she talks and leans into him and Steve for his part doesn’t pull away.

  
He never tells her no. His hand never leaves hers. He doesn’t shift away. He is eyes don’t dart for some means of escape.

  
He never says no to her.

  
The lobby of the hotel is impressive, glass staircases and marble floors. She notices the rise of his eyebrows at the opulence when so much of the area they walked through had the clear marks of the severest kind of poverty. Slums abutting the high rise.  There are two doormen but both are politely disinterested and soon enough they are alone in her room, the view to the Atlantic just visible through a sea of cranes.  

  
She closes them into her room, bolt locking into place and she holds back a sigh. Just one last loose end and then she can stitch this closed. Whatever it even was...

  
Not love.

_  
Can’t have been love._

  
“So,” she drawls, once they are so very alone. “Interesting vacation spot you picked.”

  
“Funny. I was going to say the same to you.” He sounds tired. “Any chance you will let me know what you are actually doing here?”

  
Her silence is telling.

  
“I didn’t think so.”

  
“It’s just with the accords…” She feels the need to justify, to make him understand.

  
He nods his head and she can’t shake the feeling that maybe he knows all too well before he shifts the subject.

  
“You didn’t pick up your mail.”

  
“Don’t have an address anymore,” she quips.

  
No home. No family. No team.

  
No them.

  
He fishes a phone and crumpled envelope from his pocket. It’s a burner. Outdated. Clearly he didn’t go through all that trouble to bring her that. Did he?

  
Steve waits a beat, hand outstretched with his offering  and when it's clear she isn’t going to take them sets them on the small desk next to him.

  
He chased her to a dangerous country for that? Her voice is incredulous when she speaks, bordering on rude. “I know how to get in touch if I need to.”

  
Her words seem to make him smaller. “I know.”

  
“I don’t need you checking on me.”

  
Doesn’t need reminders of what could have been.

  
“I know.”

  
“I can take care of myself.”

_  
It can’t be that._

  
“I know.”

  
Why then… She can’t understand his motives. Doesn’t he know none of it justifies the risk he took in coming here?

  
She’s not worth it.

  
All she is is trouble. He, of all people, should know that.

  
“I just wanted to be able to reach you.” He shrugs like he is swallowing down words he knows she doesn’t want to hear. Keeps it light instead.  “You are kind of difficult to find, do you know that? I bet no one ever beats you at hide and go seek.”

  
“I let Lila win once.”

  
“Sure she loved that,” he chuckles at the thought before turning the full arsenal of his blue eyes on her. “You are being careful, right? With whatever this is you are doing here?”

  
His concern is touching.

  
And it can’t be that.

  
“I was until someone almost blew my cover,” raises a challenging eyebrow and he has the good sense to look sheepish about seeking her out so publicly. “But I should be okay. Apparently Captain America isn’t as popular as one might think.”

  
She is trying to be playful but it’s so damn hard with those blue eyes of his that always seems to see right through her.

  
“Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “I still can’t figure out why you picked to be here of all places. There are better spots.”

  
“They make a killer pepper steak,” she deflects but his eyes are no longer on her but on a small map on the desk next to him. Its dotted and marked up in a way no one would ever be able to decipher unless of course they knew her.

  
And Steve knows her.

  
“You are going after Ross.”

  
There is nothing to say so she is silent. The sound is deafening, oppressive in the too warm room.

  
“Without any backup? Without any team? And after that stunt in Cleveland, you must be looking at charges...”

  
She bristles under his worried gaze. “There is no team and Clint needed a distraction to get Laura and the kids out. By the way, she wants a word with you.”

  
It is somewhat satisfying to see Steve squirm at the mention of Clint’s family. He was out, safely out, and now…

  
Now no one is safe. Everything is fractured and broken and ugly.

  
“Tying up loose ends?”

  
It is somewhat painful how well he can read her. “You know me,” she snarks in return. The truth hidden beneath her shrug.

  
“Like sending Sharon and that wolf-man.”

  
She can’t help but smile at Steve’s description, Wolf Man- Logan is just going to _love_ that.   “RAFT isn’t exactly a solo mission.”

  
“And this is?”

  
“There is no team, Steve,” she repeats, forcing her voice to stay strong and steady.

  
He breaks first. Pain clear in his voice as a hand rakes through his hair. “Whatever you are doing here you shouldn’t be doing it alone. It’s dangerous.”

  
“Does that matter?”

  
They both know he shouldn’t be here. Not checking in on her. Not in her hotel room. Not so close she could just reach out and touch him.

  
It can’t be like before.

_  
Can’t._

  
“It does to me.”

  
That does it. Breaks down her fragile willpower with four little words.

  
“I’m going to regret this.”

  
She moves into him, a rush of red and soft skin. Her fate sealed before her brain has long enough to talk her out of it. Her lips capture his and she can almost dissolve back into that carefree girl that walked with her fiancee in hand.

  
She almosts believe in love.

  
Believes in them.

  
His mouth molds to her own and his fingers dig into her hips, pulling her closer. Always closer.

  
She lets out a moan at the feel of his body pressed deliciously against her own.

  
She missed this.

  
Missed him.

  
And suddenly he is unyielding under her hands, pushing her back and breaking contact, leaving her panting and confused.

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
His apology breaks her. She is not ready to say goodbye.

  
He never says no. Not to her. Never to her.

  
“I just- I don’t think we should do this.”

  
Walls rise.

  
The pain must register in her eyes because when he speaks again her name is whisper soft. “Nat…”

  
“It’s fine.”

  
She doesn't have time for this anyway. Heartbreak is a luxury she can’t afford.

  
Shuts it all down.

  
“I mean- what is this?” He gestures between the two of them. “What are we even doing?”

  
He is asking more than that and she will not be dragged into that lie.

_  
Can’t._

_  
Love is for children._

  
Her shrug is deliberate and cruel. She didn’t ask for any of this. They weren’t ever supposed to be this. “It is what it is.”

  
She isn’t foolish enough to hope it could be more.

_  
Almost..._

  
But that’s over.

  
“What does that mean?” His voice is filled with frustration.

  
She unbolts the door. “It means you can’t stay.”

  
“Nat…”

  
Ignores his pleading blue eyes. Won’t make that mistake again.

_  
Can’t._

  
Opens the door and ushers him out. “Goodbye, Steve.”

  
Refuses to look at him as she shuts the door.  

  
Refuses to acknowledge the prickle behind her eyes or the note left on the desk.

  
Refuses to allow herself to think how it was almost different.

  
It wasn’t love. No need to mourn what was never there.

  
It couldn’t have been love.

_  
Love is for children._

  
And she was never a child.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/9/16:
> 
> So I am back at this. I originally was writing as a way to keep myself focused on something while undergoing medical treatment (which honestly kicked my butt harder than I anticipated). I have edited this chapter to fix some syntax errors and also correct some moments that didn't seem to "hit" hard enough for me. All edits are minor though and I doubt anyone besides myself will even notice them.
> 
> Look for an update by 9/21 at the latest.
> 
>  
> 
> 6/10/2016  
> I am semi satisfied about Steve going in this direction. Since I'm playing with canon he kissed Sharon and I don't see him as the type of guy to lead anyone on. I see Steve as more just uncertain about where things fall with Natasha and feeling abandoned and maybe making a stupid mistake... Thank you for all the feedback! It means the world to me! 
> 
>  
> 
> ~Del


	3. Interlude: You See What You Look For, You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What to do when you feel complete trapped by your original vignettes idea and need to move your character forward? An interlude. Enjoy!

****She leaves Angola with precious little more than she came with. The information she gathers from Ross’ visit is disappointingly vague and nothing she is any position to start hunting down right away even if she had a clue where to start. She packs her bags frustrated, feeling uncomfortably directionless.  


No more orders. No more missions. No more ties.   


All those loose ends were effectively snipped ten days ago with Steve on one side of her hotel door and her on the other. A gulf of differences playing out as a two inch barrier between them.  
 

So she finds herself free as a bird.    
 

Flying without a net.    
 

Only a little terrifying. Ok, completely terrifying.  
 

Natasha is not accustomed to down time. It’s unsettling. Gives her time to think and she doesn’t want that right now.   
  


She refuses to wonder what he’s up to.  
 

If there was a real emergency, he can reach her. She keeps the phone he left on her at all times despite constantly reminding herself that it isn’t in her job description anymore.  
 

That whole mess is no longer her concern.   
  


She can’t let it be anything else.  
 

She pretends to pack the letter by accident. It somehow finds itself, still sealed, mixed within the folds of her tourist costumes- beautiful things that don’t really feel like they belong amongst her possessions.  
 

Some things are too good to be hers. She almost let herself forget that.  
 

 _Almost.  
_  

She won’t read it. She doesn’t want to know- not really.   
  


It can’t change anything.  
 

 _Can’t.  
_  

He is gone and that’s… well… anyway it’s for the best. It was getting too complicated. Requests she almost wanted to fulfill.  
 

 _Stay?  
_  

The thought of blue beseeching eyes that she almost believed in.  
 

 _Almost.  
_  

No. This is better. It has to be. She’s not that girl.  
 

So Natasha leaves with Angola with more debt, more frustration, and more lies she feeds herself like medicine to cure the ache in her chest.  
 

It would have never worked.  
 

It wasn’t love.   
  


It’s not like she even misses him.  
 

Spends two weeks carefully tracking through Europe to salvage what little she can from her life before. There is not much and Natasha is fully regretting using up what meager resources she had left to track down General Ross.  
 

She can’t even lie to herself, not about that choice at least. It had nothing to do with her ledger or atonement or anything as noble as that.  
 

It’s that she wants them safe- all of them.  
 

And if she is a little worried about them- well who can blame her? They are idiots.  
 

And for a moment they were her family.  
  


And _he_ was almost more.   
  


Pushes that thought down.  
 

She has just been alone too long. That’s all this is- these questions that seem to keep rising within her.  
 

Hunts down Logan in his hideout in South America.  
 

But not because she is lonely.  
 

No.  
 

Just because she had promised him a good bottle of vodka if he lent a hand with R.A.F.T. and she doesn’t do loose ends.  
 

That’s all.  
 

She finds him in a dingy bar where he is doing his best to abdicate the constant mantle of role model Charles is always trying to foist on him. She understands too well the pressure of someone wanting you to be more than you were created for.  
  
   
Memories of blue eyes boring into hers.  
 

 _Stay?  
_  

 _Can’t.  
_  

“Here.” She glides a bottle of Stolichnaya over to him, ignoring the pointed look the bartender gives her.  “As promised.”  
 

“Normal people say thank you, Romanoff.”  
 

She just smirks in reply. Since when were they normal?  
 

Logan examines her. “You look like shit.”  
 

“You always were such a sweet talker.”  
 

His fingers glide over the label before sliding the bottle back to her.  “Looks like you need it more than me.”  
 

Natasha rankles at the comment but knows better than to argue with him. Logan has known her too long to be anything but annoyingly perceptive. Opens the bottle and takes a long pull before passing it back to him.  
 

“Charles run you off again?”  
 

“Wants me to teach.”  
 

The bottle makes its way between them at every pause in the conversation.  
 

“Get out while you can.” It’s honest advice. Being needed and wanted? It almost makes you forget. Makes you think you can have things that should never belong to you.  
 

 _Almost.  
_  

It’s dangerous.   
  


“Honeymoon with your little team over with?”  
 

“That’s putting it mildly.”  
 

“And here I thought you might be trying to get the band back together.”  
 

She nearly inhales the swallow of alcohol in her mouth. He has to be kidding. There is no fixing this. “You aren’t serious.”  
 

It’s not question.  
 

“Well when you didn’t show up to help I figured you went to go smack some sense into Stark.”  
 

“I told you I wasn’t coming.” She had. Sent Logan and Sharon instead because she knew goodbye when she heard it.  “Besides it would take a blow with Thor’s hammer to get through Stark’s thick skull.”  
 

“Since when do you back down from a challenge?”  
 

She knows he’s not talking about Tony. Logan had obviously been expecting her to help with R.A.F.T. despite her being crystal clear about her intentions. “After…” She doesn’t mention the Red Room. She doesn’t need to. “I don’t walk into places where the exits aren’t clearly marked.”  
 

“I seem to recall that.” Logan takes another drink from the bottle that is rapidly dwindling between them. “By the way, had a layover in New York last week. Murdock is ‘looking for you’.”  
 

She sighs at the pun but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a real reply.  
 

“He says the two of you need to talk.”  
 

“He is probably pissed about the accords. I’m not in the mood to deal with his bullshit.” Last thing she needs is a reminder about how even when she tried her relationships crashed and burned around her. Could anyone blame her for saving herself and Rogers from that misery?  
 

He deserved better. Much better.  
 

“Nice to see you have finally outgrown the dating assholes stage.”  
 

Yes, she has. She has now moved on to being the bad guy in her relationships. Taking a guy like Steve and pretending that she could ever be good enough for him.  
 

“I’m over assholes- well unless you want to give it a go?” Uses her humor to deflect.  
 

It shocks Logan enough that he chokes on his drink and Natasha actually smiles as he sputters at her. “Shit like this is why you are single.”  
 

Natasha eye rolls at the comment but doesn’t needle Logan in return about Jean. Some things are off limits- even for her.  
 

Logan is never loquacious and so they spend the next hour passing the bottle back and forth without much chatter. She slides over her phone and tries not to stare at him as he browses the intel she collected in Luanda which isn’t much. Ross is after a weapon (big surprise there) and specifically a way to control it.  
 

The alcohol leaves her fuzzy, blurring lines that she held so precisely in her mind before.  The can’ts and the mustn’ts mute under the thudding ache that seems to slowly permeate her soul making her so carefully thought out objections seem as flimsy as paper napkin beneath her fingers.  
 

It couldn’t have worked.  
 

 _Right?  
_  

Even without the accords, even without the world drawing a line between them- it was bound to end up like this.  
 

 _Wasn’t it?  
_  

She tries to force those thoughts down and focus on the fly that keeps buzzing near her end of the bar.  It’s not hurting anyone- not really but still the second it lands her hand reacts on its own to squash it.  
 

Logan shoots her an look that asks ‘was that necessary?’.  
 

No but it's who she is. A spider, a black widow, a bringer of death.  
 

She tries to be more but it always ends up like this. It’s what she was created for.  
 

Steve almost made her forget that.  
 

 _Almost.  
_  

She almost believed him.  
 

 _Almost.  
_  

Almost took that leap.  
  


Was so close.  
 

But he said no. Wanted more from her than she was created for.  
 

More than half drunk and she finally admits to herself how much she wishes she could have been more.  
 

For her.    
 

For him.  
 

For _them.  
_  

More trusting.   
  


More brave.  
 

More open.  
 

 _More.  
_  

She could have stayed. Any of those nights he asked. She could have. She had wanted to.  
 

Almost had a dozen time.  
 

_Almost.  
_

The bottle is somehow empty when she goes to take a swig and under the truth and vodka her mask begins to crumble. She knows she must have let on too much when Logan passes back her phone without a word.  
 

No snappy retort about her failure to get any decent info while in Angola.  
 

No comment about the black pit that is her love life.  
 

No mention of the team she let crumble around her.  
 

Just a hand on her shoulder. “You are going to be ok, kiddo.”  
 

Natasha knows she will.  
 

She survives.  
 

It’s what she was created for.  
 

She just wishes she could have been more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> First the requisite apology of how long this update took:
> 
> I originally started off posting when the next part would be up. I have been in treatment for the big C and thought the deadlines would motivate me to get out of bed even on my worse day. Honestly? I completely underestimated how much treatment would suck. So I am writing and I hope to move this along but no hard deadlines this time.
> 
> Now on to Logan aka Wolverine. I know! I can hear some of you shouting that there is no Steve in this chapter and how dare I. (Not to mention- I brought up Matt, what is wrong with me?) So whoever is lighting those torches and passing out pitchforks please hear me out first! I wanted each of the chapters to have both Steve and Natasha but I needed an interlude for Natasha to come to grips about what she wants. Like I said before she is a tough nut to crack.
> 
> And yes I am now mixing 616 and MCU. I am going with the idea that Steve met Logan for the first time during the R.A.F.T break out because I am weirded out by him saving Natasha with Logan's help as a child per 616 and then sleeping with her so yeah... not going there.
> 
> Anyway let me know what you think!
> 
> ~Delysia~


End file.
